Thursday, September 27, 2012

Light ray blues, part 4

“I’m glad you’re here. You need to call your station for more police and an ambulance.”

“I am not with the police.”

“Yes you are. You said you were.” I said petulantly.


He was right. That voice had fooled me. He had on clothes that sort of looked police-uniform-like in dim light, but it was partially covered by an overcoat. I never asked for ID. I never challenged him.

“We must leave.” Barry White was long gone and Darth Vader was back.
He stepped passed me and removed a wallet from McMillan's pocket. He checked its contents and put it in his own pocket. He then put a hand on McMillan’s shoulder and paused for a moment.

When he was done it was back to business, “Let’s go.”

“I don’t know who you are and I need to call the police.”

“No. You are coming with me.”

For a man with a voice like he had he was surprisingly small. He couldn’t have been more than five foot seven or eight with shoes on. A bit on the thin side too. I could have probably knocked him over or out ran him or both. But he persuaded me not to. He drew a gun. 

“We are going to my office for the rest of the evening.”

“I need to get home. My wife will be wondering where I am and I’m dead tired,” I whined.  I was tired. I’d been working long overtime hours for the last three weeks pushing to get a stable solution to those equations, then nearly witnessing some sort of crime earlier this evening, and now this, with a ‘50s ray-gun and all.

Darth grabbed my arm and we started walking towards an alley. He was stronger than I thought. I could feel the gun against my ribs.

“What about the car?”

“Leave it. It will be hard to trace. We are going to walk over to Scarboro Square Station and take the train. I know some back streets to get there. This is not going to be a perfect escape, but if we have some luck, and not draw attention to ourselves, we will disappear.”

We were lucky. Extra lucky even. After about fifteen minutes of navigating the alleys and back streets of Agincourt we came across an overflowing Salvation Army clothing drop box in an unlit corner of a parking lot. Five minutes later we had some different coats and shirts. Fairly good ones too, but a bit smelly. Although, I wasn’t smelling so good myself.

“Don’t worry. People will think we are just business men who have had a little too much fun and too much drink. Just act the part a bit,” came Darth’s sage advice. I was nearly falling down with exhaustion. I could probably pass for falling down drunk.

Once we were on the train I immediately fell asleep. I never seem to learn from my mistakes.

You can find part 5 here.

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